Happy Birthday, Draco!
by Gertie Keddle
Summary: It's Draco's 21st birthday and Harry has a surprise. Quite romantic! Slash of the HD variety


**Happy Birthday, DRACO!**

Draco sighed as he started to wake up and instinctively reached one arm out across the bed.  Nothing.    He groaned and opened his eyes.   No one.

Draco glanced at the clock next to the bed.  7.25 am.   _This is ridiculous, _he thought, as he threw back the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.   He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his hands over his face.   _No one should be up this early.   Ever!_    Not entirely awake, he stumbled towards the wardrobe and picked up the jeans he'd thrown on the floor there last night.   Absentmindedly, he pulled them on and walked towards the hallway.   From the top of the stairs he breathed in the salty smell of frying bacon wafting up from the kitchen and smiled.   Then he grinned; and did something he'd wanted to do since he was a little kid.   He threw one leg over the banister and pushed off with his hands, sliding backwards until he reached the bottom.   He punched the air with his fist, still grinning.

A hand reached out from behind him and grabbed his wrist, pulling his arm behind his back.   "Happy birthday," Harry whispered, his mouth against Draco's ear, his warm breath tickling Draco's neck.

Draco blushed slightly, embarrassed at having been caught doing something so childish, and leaned his head back against Harry's chest.   "How long have you been there?"

Harry let go of Draco's arm and wrapped his own arms around Draco's waist.  "About since just as you pushed off from the top," Harry laughed.

Draco swung his leg back over the banister and turned to face Harry.    "I thought you were cooking breakfast," he said irritably, crossing his arms over his chest.

Harry nodded.   "It's done.   I was coming back upstairs to wake you up but then I saw you sliding down to me."   Harry grinned at Draco's embarrassment and Draco glared at him.

Harry reached around Draco and gripped the banister, shaking it slightly as if to test its sturdiness.    He walked a few steps up and did the same to the banister on the other side of the stairs.   He ambled back and leaned against the banister opposite Draco, mimicking Draco's pose by crossing his arms over his own chest.  He looked up the stairs and at the two banisters appraisingly; then back at Draco.   "Want to race?" he challenged, eyes sparkling mischievously.

Draco sighed and looked at him disdainfully.   "Harry, we're 21 years old.   I think we can be a bit more mature than that, don't you?"

Harry pursed his lips together to keep from smiling and nodded, sagely.

They grinned at each other and pushed away from their respective banisters at the same time.    They ran up the stairs, pushing each other from the side as they went, both trying to gain an advantage and reach the top first.

Still laughing, they each straddled the banisters, Harry on one side of the stairs and Draco on the other.

Harry looked across at Draco.  "Ready?   On three.   One … t-"

"Wait!" Draco shouted.  He pulled his ever present wand out of his pocket and muttered a quick spell to prevent Harry from pushing off early.

Harry pouted, pretending to be hurt.   "What, you don't trust me?"

Draco rolled his eyes as he replaced his wand.   "I know how competitive you are, Harry.   You _always_ have to win."

"Yeah, but I'm a Gryffindor," Harry said, pulling out his own wand and waving it at Draco.   "Gryffindors don't cheat – Slytherins do," he added, after muttering his own anticheating spell.

Draco sighed impatiently.   "Just hurry up, will you!    I'm starving."

"All right," Harry said firmly.    "One … two … three!"

They both pushed off from the top, using their arms to leverage as much power and speed into their starts as possible, and slid down, Draco reaching the bottom just seconds before Harry.

Draco jumped off the banister and leaped into the air, both arms raised over his head.   "I won!" he crowed.

"I _let_ you win because it's your birthday," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"You did not!"  Draco protested.  "You just can't stand losing, can you, Harry?"

"You're heavier than me!"   Harry reasoned, only half joking.  As much as he hated to admit it, Draco was right – Harry _did_ hate losing anything.   It was borne, though, more out of his need to live up to the perceived expectations of the rest of the wizarding world rather than his own need to dominate or be in control.  "It's just physics!"

Draco chuckled.   He knew why Harry always wanted to win at everything but sometimes he wished he'd just relax a bit.   Who cared what anyone else thought?   "So, then, I suppose that means you're only a better flyer than me because you weigh less?" Draco teased.

Harry grinned and launched himself across the stairs, pinning Draco against the banister.  He held Draco's face in his hands and kissed him urgently.  Draco braced his hands on the banister behind him, half afraid Harry might accidentally push him over the railing.   Draco leaned into Harry and pushed his chest against him.    He felt Harry's body relax slightly and Draco wound his arms around Harry's neck, his fingers tangling in Harry's dark hair as their tongues stroked.

Draco sighed contentedly as Harry's lips and tongue travelled down Draco's neck and across his throat.  This was where he wanted to be – for the rest of his life.   Only Harry could make him feel – feel loved, feel wanted, feel like he belonged.

Draco shivered, despite the summer heat, as Harry's hot mouth moved over his chest.   He closed his eyes as he felt Harry kneel in front of him, his tongue tracing a path down to his stomach.

A crackling sound and a loud POP came from the lounge room.   Harry's head snapped back sharply and Draco's eyes flew open.

Harry sighed in frustration.    He put his hands on Draco's hips and hoisted himself up.   "At least Muggles can screen calls with answering machines when people call at inopportune moments," Harry whispered in Draco's ear.    "How do you ignore a head in a fireplace?"

Draco smiled at Harry's annoyance.  "Well, it's probably for you, anyway."

Harry scowled.   "Who do I know that'd call me at this time of the morning?"

"Who do I know that'd call me at all?" Draco countered.

A voice called hesitantly from the lounge room.  "Draco?  Harry?"

"Gran!"   Draco disentangled himself from Harry, jumped down the two steps to the bottom and ran down the hallway to the lounge room, Harry following along slowly.

"How are you?" Draco asked as he sat on the couch opposite the fire.   "Why are you calling?   We're still having lunch today, aren't we?"

Glenda Malfoy smiled at her grandson.   "Yes, of course we are, darling.   But I had to call to wish you a happy birthday anyway."  She paused a few beats before adding.   "I know your parents won't call, Draco."

Draco smiled, a little sadly.   "No, I guess they won't."   He knew his parents loved him but he also knew that they couldn't quite forgive him for the stance he'd taken against Voldemort in the war – and against them – but Lucius had again managed to worm his way of trouble with the Ministry.   Draco still hoped that one day he and his parents could establish some sort of civil relationship.

Glenda smiled and looked up as Harry moved into her line of vision.   "Hello, Harry.   How are you, dear?"

"Well, thanks, Mrs Malfoy," Harry said politely.  "We were just about to have breakfast.   Would you like something?"   Harry leaned over the back of the couch.    

Glenda laughed.  "No, thank you, dear.   I just wanted to call to say happy birthday to Draco.    I hope I didn't interrupt anything?"

"No, of course not," Draco replied quickly.

"Hmmm, that wasn't very convincing, darling," she said.   "Well, I'll be going now but I'll see you both at lunch."

"Of course, Gran," Draco said, as Harry nodded.

"Bye, boys," Glenda said and, with another POP, she was gone.

Harry climbed over the back of the couch and sat cross legged, facing his lover.

Draco glared at him.   "God, Harry, would it really kill you to walk around it instead of climbing over the furniture!"

Harry smiled at Draco, indulgently, knowing his irritation was not really at Harry.      Draco missed his parents so much and longed for the closeness they'd had when he was a child.   He especially missed them on his birthdays.

Harry, for his part, understood what it was like to live without parents and hated that Draco was separated from his when it wasn't necessary.  For Draco's sake, he was willing to accept that 'good' and 'evil' were a matter of perception only and that he had fought for what he believed in and so had the Malfoys.    Even Draco, Harry knew, had fought on the Light side only because he couldn't accept Voldemort's methods; not because he'd entirely given up on believing that purebloods were superior to Muggle borns – although his disillusionment upon finding out that Voldemort was a half blood had been profound.

Harry grabbed one of Draco's hands and held it tightly between both his own.  "They'll surprise you one day, Draco, I know it."

Draco smiled weakly as he blinked furiously to discourage the tears burning his eyes.    "Maybe they will and maybe thry won't.   But I don't want to think about it today, Harry."

Harry raised his eyebrows.  "Breakfast then?" he said teasingly.

Draco rolled his eyes.   "No, Harry, I want to go back to where we were before Gran interrupted."

Harry frowned.   "But you told her she didn't interrupt anything," he said innocently.

"Harry, she's my grandmother!"   Draco cried.   "I couldn't tell her the truth!"

Harry laughed.  "You can be such a prude sometimes, Draco.   She knew what we were doing.   She doesn't care!"

Draco looked scandalised.   "Harry!    Look, you know what?   I don't want to talk about it anymore.  I just want back there as quickly as possible!"

"What, the stairs?" Harry said, pretending to misunderstand.

"Argh!" Draco screamed and pushed Harry back against the arm of the couch, laying on top of him.    "Although the stairs can be a bit uncomfortable, they do allow for some interesting … um … angles," Draco admitted.  "But here's just fine, Harry.    I don't want to be late for lunch."

Harry sat up and pushed Draco back.   "We'd have plenty of time – hours, even – if you didn't take so long to get ready."    Harry vaulted over the back of the couch, pulling Draco with him.   "At least come this side of the couch in case anyone else decided to fire call us," he said, pushing Draco down to the floor and laying next to him.   "You never know.   Your parents might decide today's the day."

******

Harry stood and surveyed the dining room, critically.   There were two candles on the table, in the middle of the sparkling glassware and silverware, and about fifty tea lights floated around the room.   About an hour ago, there'd also been fairy lights but, to Harry, it had seemed too much and he'd dispatched the fairies to the back garden.

From the kitchen, the delicious aroma of perfectly cooked food wafted into the dining room.   Harry had considered cooking himself but, in the end, he'd ordered the meal from Stefan's, Draco's favourite restaurant.  At least the food would be edible.    Stefan's had volunteered a waiter for the evening but Harry wanted to be entirely alone with Draco and had declined the offer.

For Draco's sake, he wanted this night to be perfect.

Harry could easily remember his own 21st birthday.   Well, it was only two weeks ago, after all.    The party they'd had at their house had continued through to the early hours of the morning and everyone who meant so much to Harry had been there.    Draco – of course – and Hermione and Ron, all his Gryffindor friends and others from Hogwarts, Dumbledore and a few other Hogwarts teachers, Hagrid, naturally, Sirius and Remus, his 'almost fathers', all the Weasleys, Hermione's parents, and some friends from Diagon Alley – and not a Dursley in sight.    It felt strange (on the odd occasion when he thought about it) that, despite having lived half his life as a Muggle, Hermione's parents were the only Muggles in his life now.   But he tried not to be think of his Before Hogwarts life too much anyway.

Draco, however, didn't want a big party for his birthday and, truthfully, Harry could see his point.   Who would he invite?

Draco's parents refused to have anything to do with him and he'd never been close with any of his uncles, aunts and cousins.   Sirius and Remus only tolerated him for Harry's sake.   His relationship with most of Harry's friends was civil, bordering on cordial with Hermione and tense with Ron.   The only exception was Harry's former dorm mate, Dean Thomas, who had become Draco's best friend.   None of his Slytherin mates had remained friends.    That only left Harry and Draco's grandmother but she, at age 214, tended to tire easily and had left Harry's party fairly early.

Draco had said he didn't mind not having his own party.  In fact, he'd laughed it off, saying that one party in the space of a couple of weeks was quite enough for the neighbours.   Harry knew that Draco was sincere, too; except for one thing.  He wanted his parents.   Nothing would have pleased Draco more than to have them join Harry and Draco for dinner.

Harry had owled them an invitation but they hadn't responded.   Harry wasn't surprised.    After all, it wasn't the first time but he had hoped that, being Draco's 21st birthday, they might have relented.    But it wasn't so.

Draco would have to content himself with enjoying his grandmother's company for the afternoon and Harry's for the evening.  

Neither Draco nor Glenda had seemed to mind when Harry had left immediately after lunch to ready himself and the house for his dinner plans.   He'd already explained his plans – some of them, at least – to Glenda (such a lovely lady – so different from her son) and Harry suspected that, whilst Draco didn't now the intricate details of the evening, he knew Harry wasn't going to allow his birthday to pass without some sort of special celebration.

"Harry?" he heard Draco call from the hallway, into which he'd just Apparated.

Harry quickly straightened the silverware and hurried to Draco's side.   He wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and nuzzled his neck.

Draco grinned.    "Everything's all dark, Harry.   Have you forgotten how to use _Lumos_?"

"No, you impatient git.  Put your wand away," Harry laughed, as he took Draco's hand.   "Come on, I'm sure we can make it to the dining room without light."

"Oohhh, Harry, this is beautiful," Draco breathed as he entered the room.   "You didn't do all this by yourself, did you?"

Harry nodded, shyly, pleased that Draco seemed to be so delighted.

Draco sniffed as he ran his index finger lightly over the starched white linen table cloth and his eyes taking in the crusty bread and leafy salad arranged carefully on the table.    "You didn't cook, too?" Draco asked, incredulously.

Harry snorted.  "I want you to enjoy it, not be poisoned!"   He pulled a chair out from the table and motioned to Draco to sit.

"In that case," Draco drawled, as he sat down.   "I smell Stefan's French onion soup and veal scaloppine."   Draco's eyes widened as Harry poured wine into his glass.    "Don't tell me you got strawberry shortcake, too?"

"Is nothing a surprise for you?" Harry retorted, goodnaturedly, as he went to the kitchen to retrieve the soup tureen.    He chuckled quietly to himself.   Draco might _think_ he was incredibly smart but Harry had expected him to guess the menu; they were, after all, Draco's favourite foods.    Harry couldn't help still feeling pleased with himself, however;  there was no way Draco was going to figure out his birthday present.

******

"That was delicious," Draco said, as he laid his fork on his empty plate and watched as Harry put the last strawberry into his mouth.  "Thank you."

Harry couldn't help but hear the disappointment in Draco's voice, no matter how hard he tried to disguise it.    "I'm sorry they didn't come, Draco," he said, regretfully.   "I did invite them."

Draco leaned across the table and laid his hand on Harry's.   "Harry, no, I know you did," he said, urgently.   "And I know it's not the first time, either.  It's not your fault!    I've had a really good time tonight."   Draco squeezed Harry's hand.   "Great food, great wine, great company – there's nothing more I could want."

Harry smiled and glanced surreptitiously at his watch.    Good God, they'd lingered so long over each course, it was almost time.  He'd have to move quickly.   He jumped up from his chair and moved to the sideboard, snaring a chilled bottle of champagne from the ice bucket and a couple of flutes.

"It's such a nice night," he said – he hoped casually – as he held out his hand to Draco.    "Why don't we take this outside."   He put his free arm around a bewildered Draco's shoulders and led him to the back door.

"Harry, this is even better than your efforts in the dining room," Draco exclaimed when he stepped into the backyard and saw the fairy lights in the trees and all over the gazebo.   "It's exquisite!"

"Well, honestly, I hadn't exactly planned it this way," Harry admitted as he led Draco to the gazebo.    "The fairy lights were in the dining room originally but it looked a bit … girly … so I sent them out here."   After pouring them each a glass of champagne, he stretched his legs out along the bench and settled Draco between them, Draco's back leaning against Harry's chest, and secured his arms around the blond.  "But I'm glad you like it."

"It's perfect," Draco breathed.

_Not yet,_ thought Harry, as he peeked again at his watch.   _But it will be in a couple of minutes._

At 11.12 pm, the exact time of Draco's birth, Harry pointed to the sky in front of Draco.   "Watch," he said, simply.

Draco's mouth dropped open as the first star shot through the sky.   "You got me a meteorite shower?" he squeaked, unable to tear his eyes away as stars exploded all through the sky.  "A meteorite shower?"

"Shhh," Harry whispered.   "Just watch."

Stars burst in the clear, night sky and seemed to almost drop at Draco's feet as he watched, entranced.   Harry had to admit, he spent just as much time watching Draco as he did the star and light show.   The star and moon light combined to make Draco's blond hair look like shimmering rays of golden light and the man, himself, an angel.

Harry hardly noticed the light show ending but there was no mistaking the feeling of Draco's lips pressed tightly against his own.

"Thank you so much," Draco said.   "I can't tell you how much this means to me.   I know how hard it is to get just a falling star let alone a whole shower."

Harry smiled, his mouth turning up at the ends against Draco's lips.  He gently pushed the blond back a little.  "I'm glad you liked it," he said.   "But I was sort of worried that it wasn't quite right.   You know, because it's not something you can keep," Harry explained.  "So, there's something else."

Harry took hold of Draco's right hand and guided it upwards.   He pointed with his index finger extended towards the western sky.   "Do you see that bright star?" he whispered in Draco's ear.    "The one in the middle of those three there?"

Draco nodded, not understanding what Harry was getting at but following the line of his finger and picking out the star Harry was referring to.

"Well," Harry said, lowering his own hand but leaving Draco's suspended in mid air.   "It's called _Draco_.   I had it named after you.    Happy birthday, sweetheart."

Harry looked down at the ground as Draco stood up quickly, the sound of his glass smashing on the concrete echoing in the still of the night.

"What?"   Draco asked, incredulously.

Harry dared not breathe as he put his hand into the pocket inside his jacket and pulled out an envelope.   "Here's a certificate and everything," he mumbled.   "To say that that star's now called _Draco_."    Harry looked up at his lover as he held out the envelope.   "You're not angry with me, are you?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Angry?" Draco echoed.

"I know it's a bit ostentatious," Harry said, apologetically, "but I just-"  He was interrupted as Draco's lips pressed firmly against his own.

"Do _not_ apologise, Harry," Draco commanded.   "This is the most special, stupendous, amazing, romantic gift I've ever received."   Draco whipped out his wand and quickly repaired the glass he'd dropped earlier.  "Do we have more of that champagne?" he asked, holding it out towards Harry.

Harry grinned and nodded as he reached under the bench for the bottle and quickly refilled their glasses.

"Oh, God," Draco said, mortified, as they clinked their glasses together.   "Harry, I owe you such an apology."

Harry's brow wrinkled.   "What for?"

"When we were having dinner, I thought it was really nice and everything," Draco said, slightly abashed.  "But I couldn't help thinking that it wasn't very … well, special.    Original, I mean.  And now, I … Harry, I …I don't know what to say.   I'm so-"

"Shut up, you idiot," Harry said, laughing.   

"But all I gave you was a stupid party!" Draco cried.

"I loved my party," Harry assured him.  "Best thing you _could've_ given me."

"But a party's not anywhere near as good as this!" Draco insisted.

"C'mere," Harry said, reaching for Draco's hand and pulling him down on the seat beside him.   "I love you, Draco.   Happy birthday."

End


End file.
